


Lost

by scamvnder



Category: AC3 - Fandom, Assassins Creed - Fandom, Assassins Creed III - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 16:36:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scamvnder/pseuds/scamvnder
Summary: "Are we lost or do you know where we are?" with Connor pls! thnx!





	Lost

It feels like you’ve been wandering for hours. 

The Homestead should be right around the corner, or at least that’s what you were told by the barkeep at the tavern you had passed, but with daylight burning faster than you’d like a no house in sight, panic is beginning to set in. Coming here was supposed to be a fresh, new start for you, and with the war going on it seemed to be the safest place for the time being. Everyone did their part, and the redcoats stayed away from the land. Perfect, right? 

You were beginning to think otherwise. 

Aware that roughing it in the wilderness required a certain set of skills, you wouldn’t call yourself completely helpless. You did well on your own, but even the most knowledgeable woodsman won’t be able to fight off a pack of wolves, or bears, or whatever other dangerous wildlife you’re suddenly becoming more aware of the longer you trek through the woods. 

You savior comes in the form of a shadow and nearly scares the daylights out of you. Just in time because you had been teetering on the edge of hysterics, fully convinced that you were going to perish alone in the forest while the owls and crickets mocked you and your struggles. 

“Are you alright?” 

Connor purposefully keeps his voice low and gentle. He knows he’s spooked you, although that hadn’t been his intention. He spotted you on his way into town. Boston certainly differs from the Homestead, and he’d be lying if he said he was eager to return to the city. It wasn’t made for a man like him, and with the constant chaos and conflict it seems to be enduring, he finds that although it is his duty, he’d rather be somewhere else. 

“I’m fine.” Ever indignant, you wipe your hands on the front of your clothes, unwilling to admit to this stranger (and more so to yourself) that you feel utterly helpless, and that this new beginning is a failure before it even got a chance to start. You can tell immediately that the man in front of you knows otherwise. Connor thinks about what to say to you. By the looks of it, you won’t respond well to him saying otherwise, that much is for certain, and he can’t just leave you here. With his momentary silence, you get a chance to study this mysterious person, and realize that he should be intimidating. 

All broad shoulders and muscle, he’s practically built like the trees surrounding you, and you reckon just as strong and resilient as one. He’s got a kind face, and you notice for the first time during this interaction that he’s got his hood up, like he had been on his way somewhere and didn’t want to be seen. It should shoot up a red flag, but it doesn’t. You believe, whether it’s foolish to or not, that he won’t hurt you. 

“I was just-I’m-” Words are hard, but he doesn’t seem to be impatient. Rather, he nods, encouraging you to keep trying despite yourself. The juxtaposition between his appearance and his personality is startling. “I’m lost.” 

The assassin nods, looking empathetic to your plight, although he does want to laugh. You’re very cute when you’re flustered. 

“Where are you headed?” 

“Davenport Homestead. I was told it was somewhere around here, but..I haven’t found it.” You laugh then. Your ends have been frayed, and it’s only now that you’re really hearing and seeing yourself. 

“I can lead you there if you’d like.” He offers. This man is just the gift that keeps on giving. It isn’t until thirty minutes into your journey to this Homestead that you begin to doubt him. 

“Are we lost or do you know where we are?” 

Either you were a lot further away from civilization than you thought or your would be savior has turned out to be an ax-murderer. That coin remains up in the air. All he does is look over his shoulder at you, looking displeased that you’d question him. You feel bad, almost, given how kind he’s been to you so far. 

“We are almost there.” Connor replies, not meaning to come off coolly. 

He wasn’t lying. The house, and its many steps, come into view twenty minutes later. There is a man standing in the doorway, watching you and Connor with an impartiality that should come off as rude, but doesn’t. Connor speaks to you then, and startles you out of your thoughts. 

“You can stay here for the night. Achilles will show you to your room.” He moves to turn away, then, and for whatever reason you find yourself stopping the man before he can go. 

“Thank you-” It’s only occurred to you now that you don’t know his name, or anything about him. You place a hand on his upper arm and he stops in his tracks, turning to face you in earnest confusion. 

“Connor.” Calls the older man, who you assume is Achilles, answering before the assassin can. His tone has more to it than just a mere answer, as if Achilles is reminding him of something, and you find yourself letting go of his arm before you can really think about it. Connor snaps out of it, too, and speaks for himself this time. 

“I hope to see you when I return. Find Myriam in the morning. She will help you become accustomed to living here.” 

With that, he nods and leaves you on the steps, wondering about this new beginning.


End file.
